“When shall we three meet again?

In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

When the hurly-burly’s done.

When the battle’s lost and won.”

 – Macbeth, Act 1, scene 1

The clocks have gone back, and I’m using the extra hour to magic up this post.

It’s almost Halloween, and for reasons I’ll set out below, I think I’m going to dress up as a ghost.  Were I a politician (and some days I’m tempted), I would refer to this as the “third way”, because, as Miranda once said in Sex & The City, there are broadly two costumes widely available to women at this time of year: Ugly Old Witch or….Sexy Kitten.  In other words, trick or treat.

My own affliction last week was wading – through – treacle –  tiredness.  I may not be a parent, have not climbed Kilimanjaro, ridden a bike anywhere (avoided that for years, actually), or run a casual marathon, but I know full-on tiredness when it hits me like a brick through a window. Life seems to be a feast of activity or a famine. One night it’s gin, a fabulous meal and most of the cheese trolley and the next it’s tea and cereal.

As such, I decided to take a week off to recharge my broomstick before my busiest night of the year and do all those things I really enjoy about staycations – making lists, prowling round my flat, watching morning TV by accident, trawling charity shops and having a clear out.  I may even go for walks and head to Waitrose midweek; the opportunities are endless.

As a special treat, I decided to take myself down to the new recycling centre in Jersey.  You may say I am easily pleased, but what a fabulous place. There may have been happier people at La Collette this morning, but they would have been hard to find.  Simply, everyone was loving having a good clear out and the sun was shining as we threw our JEPs to the wind.

With a spring in our step, we all threw paper, cardboard and tins into huge bins  – and very cathartic it was too. There was, however, a tricky moment when my Jo Malone gift boxes got stuck.  I also admit hesitating for a second before hurling my 10 year old law study guides over the wall to be recycled due to a vague fear that someone, somewhere, may yet take my LLB from under my nose if I let them go, but that hasn’t happened yet.

I also got to flatten large cardboard boxes by jumping up and down on them, whilst admiring a whole line of cars far nicer than mine as I did so.  I may have walked casually past a midnight blue Audi S4 a few more times than absolutely necessary whilst clutching empty plastic bottles for the skip.

Something else that I did in readiness for my week off was to take a chance on a networking lunch at the end of last week.  I had seen it advertised lots of times previously and couldn’t think of a better way than to mix business development with eating and chatting to new people for a couple of hours. As I always say, you never know who you might meet, or where your next great connection may come from.

Before you can get chatting, of course, you have to be introduced.  I love meeting people and hearing about what they do, so this had never been a problem before. Neither did I think was it an issue that I was the only female in attendance, until something strange happened – or rather, it didn’t.  I don’t remember applying my special”Invisible Dust” that morning, but either I did or some of the men I met weren’t very observant, because several of my fellow lunch guests completely ignored me.

Picture, if you will, a scene of being in a small group  (as I was), and someone walks up to that circle of people to introduce themselves.  Imagine then being ignored by the newcomer as that person greets and shakes hands with everyone else in that group, but you get passed over.

You’ve probably heard the term “cocktail eyes”, best explained as when you’re at a drinks event and you can see someone looking over your or someone else’s shoulder to see if there is anyone else more powerful / important / attractive they can speak to. Or maybe I’m being cynical and they’re just after the cocktail sausages.   I have seen people scanning other guests’ name badges at events in London and then discounting them, or worse still freezing someone else out of a conversation that did have three people in it, but was “a bit crowded”.  Anyway, back in to the room.

No smile, no handshake, no eye contact – and no reason.  This was not a one-off occurrence and, to be honest, I was stunned.  I wasn’t standing there with a tray of drinks or a plate of canapes, but even if I had been, I would have said and expected a “hello”.  Instead, I was literally overlooked.

Rather than challenge this behaviour, however, I smiled, went to shake hands and introduced myself.  Happily I sat with some great people, two of whom I had met previously, but it was the non-introductions that have played on my mind.  It’s 2017, females are in the workforce and we do BD and networking as well. That’s not going to change. As I said on LinkedIn afterwards, your gender should not render you invisible, nor should it stand in the way of courtesy.  And it costs nothing just to say hello.

As someone who has consciously avoided female-only networking events because I don’t have the time or inclination to “lean in” with only 50% of the working population and perpetuate the division of the sexes and power in the workplace, I also found the whole thing rather confusing.  I was always taught that manners maketh the man (or woman, for that matter).

But where were the other women? It remained a mystery. Were they all busy that day, doing their jobs, then scooping out pumpkin flesh and magicking up a last minute Halloween costume out of an old black umbrella and some pipe cleaners – or had they all just had enough of being made to feel invisible as well and given up?

Whether we’re cast as a witch, a ghost or even a”sexy kitten”, it’s no small wonder that we’re all tired. Tired of the joke that’s on us as we catch our stripy tights on fast-moving broomsticks.  It’s sad that some wizards still feel able to say:  “Abracadabra!” and to make others feel invisible.  The battle is not yet won.

And…just like magic… she’s gone.